


Different Ways to Serve

by Chess_Blackfyre



Series: Galahad Dulak: Space Doctor and Rare Emotionally Stable Jedi [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Service Corps Shenanigans, Some Actual A+ Parenting, There has to be at least One emotionally stable Jedi and her name is Galahad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chess_Blackfyre/pseuds/Chess_Blackfyre
Summary: Galahad Dulak is 13 years old, and no knight wants her. This is what came after.(Or How Gal Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Service Corps)
Relationships: Tera Sinube & Original Jedi Character(s)
Series: Galahad Dulak: Space Doctor and Rare Emotionally Stable Jedi [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664269
Comments: 24
Kudos: 128





	Different Ways to Serve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArdentAspen2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdentAspen2/gifts).



> I had a fun time imagining what the Jedi Service Corps could get up to, and this happened.
> 
> Thank you so much to ArdentAspen2 for being willing to let me rant about Star Wars in general and Galahad and particular

Galahad Dulak is 13, and she is all out of chances. 

No knight wanted her. 

Master Sinube was trying to comfort her, to tell her she was still a Jedi, that it was as just an honorable position as knighthood. But everyone knew that the Service Corps was where they sent the failures, the washouts, the ones who couldn’t cut it. (For an order best known as neutral diplomats, the Jedi could be incredibly judgy.)

The girl tried to be detached. To not let the anger and sadness and disappointment coil in her chest like a snake. But she wasn’t doing very well. Galahad had cried into her crechemaster’s robes like she was still a baby.

“Little one,” the old Jedi said, lifting her chin, “if it is the will of the Force that you do not become a soldier, do you not think that it is because the Force wills that you have a broader path to travel?”

“But you don’t understand, Master,” Gal sniffed, miserable. “You taught me that we were all family and now my family has looked at me and said ‘I don’t want her’.”

Sinube clacked his beak and squeezed her cheeks. “Now now! Where is my stubborn Hawkbat? Don’t you remember what you would always say when you would still cling to my fingers when we walked around the temple?”

Galahad wiped her eyes. “Yeah, I know: ‘I do it!’ Is that why they don’t want me? Because I’m stubborn?”

“We’re not talking about them, child. We’re talking about you,” Sinube scolded. “You declared your independence whenever you could when you first came, and now you must live by those words. Make your own path, Initiate Dulak. I will give you no advice regarding which of the Service branches will suit you best, but I will remind you of the little youngling who would run to her injured clan mates, robes flapping, to shout ‘Let me help! Let me help!’ Perhaps if you meditate on the direction the Force has pulled you all your life, your path will become clearer.”

For the first time, Galahad sensed a confusion of emotions from her old clan head. Sinube hid it well, as most adult Jedi Knights did, but he was conflicted.

“Master Sinube? I sense conflict in you.” She sniffled, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her robe.

The old master hesitated. “Perhaps it is selfish of me to be glad that some of my little ones will not be taught the ways of war,” he whispered. “Perhaps I am leaning too much towards attachment to say that if I could keep if you young and innocent forever, I would.”

When Galahad stepped before the Reassignment Council, she calmly and clearly told them where she felt the Force was calling her. Seeing the girl’s talent for healing, and the clear drive for it as well, they couldn’t do anything but agree.

* * *

Galahad’s first day on the job was to shadow Aya Knori, the experienced MediCorps healer working out of one of many small, free clinics operated by the Order on Coruscant. They were meant to help underserved levels of the city planet, and Galahad was amazed at the sheer number of people down here. Almost all of them were different species, and for a young human, even a human raised in such a place as the Jedi Temple, it was quite fascinating.

Aya was Mirialan, her geometric tattoos marking her as a healer if you knew what they meant. Galahad thought they were beautiful, and decided she was going to get tattoos of her own someday.

“Alright, so there are several medications that could help with Mr. Bwom’s glaucoma,” the healer explained, referring to their Bothan patient in the next room. “But the most effective treatment in his price range would be some of the glitterweed we just got in from the AgriCorps.”

“Wait, isn’t glitterweed illegal?”

“Intentionally growing and selling it, yes.”

“But the AgriCorps do that?”

“Yep.”

“But you just said that’s illegal?”

Aya went to the desk and grabbed a datapad. “Long story short, the big pharmaceutical companies put pressure on the Senate to criminalize glitterweed because the herb was seriously cutting into their profit margins. Taken in moderation, it actually does less to you than whiskey, and I don’t see anyone trying to make that illegal.”

Galahad considered “And we can just prescribe it?”

“Technically what we’re prescribing is a special herbal remedy.”

“That is actually glitterweed.”

“Yep,” Aya affirmed, popping the ‘p’ and started filling out the necessary forms.

“Is that allowed?” The youngling--er, trainee asked. 

Placing her datapad off to the side, the Force Healer kneeled down, put a hand on Galahad’s shoulder and looked her solemnly in the eye.

“Kid, if you keep your head down and fill out the forms right, you can get away with just about anything in the Service Corps.”

Galahad Dulak, all of 13, takes those words to heart.

* * *

Galahad is 14, and she kriffing loves the Service Corps.

The unfortunate truth was, most Jedi considered the Corps to be the place where the washouts ended up. Even the Vaunted High Council, for all their talk of service and different callings, didn’t pay them much more heed than strictly necessary.

Instead of angsting about it, the Jedi sent there learned how to turn that into an advantage. The Corps was the kind of place that gave you a good sense of how to cut through bureaucratic red tape, or how to use it to your advantage. Because no sir; the AgriCorps totally isn’t shipping contraband. It’s organic oregano, says right here on the paperwork. No one ever questions it.

For example, when the Diplomatic Corps was helping the planet of Xukiv integrate and join the wider Republic, one of the Jedi really hitting it off with the Xukivian Prince. Their marriage ended up being worked into the larger trade deal. They put it right there in the report. Jedi Council didn’t notice, and still hadn’t when the husbands were celebrating their fifth anniversary.

So long as you don't do anything stupid like turn Dark, you could get away with just about anything.

* * *

Many of the patients she sees refer to her as ‘Master Jedi’ at first. It never lasts long.

If there is a knight nearby, they are quick to correct the address. “She isn’t a master,” they explained in that same righteous and 'trust me I'm a Jedi and therefore totally correct' tone that Galahad can see is actually really obnoxious to most people, “she’s just MediCorps.”

Galahad would remain the picture of Jedi behavior, then share an eyeroll with the patient when the knights’ back is turned. “And of course, the knights always have to be correct all the time.” Many of them don’t actually understand what the difference is, and chuckle along with her. She knows they probably don't get the in-joke, but she felt it made things a lot less tense.

If there is no knight, the healer just says they can call her Galahad.

* * *

Galahad Dulak is 17, and life is good.

She has her own bootleg bacta still in her quarters, like all good MediCorps healers. Chancellor Palpatine has been subsidizing the crap out of the bacta industry (for some reason) leading to a lot of less than quality strains being sold to civilians.

Next to it is a crock of sourdough starter yeast, a gift from a friend from AgriCorps. Alivia was a little...funny. Very much in tune with the Living Force, yes. But didn’t really get people. Perhaps too much time in the greenhouse, and not enough interacting with other Jedi.

She was in the middle of figuring out just out how many of her vaccines had ‘gone bad’ so she could pay a visit to her friends at the autonomous commune a few levels down. There were a couple of Coruscant city blocks that had decided they weren’t going to keep paying taxes for services they never saw, and basically became their own community. They didn’t pick fights and had some sweet mushroom farms, so Galahad made an arrangement that she’d be allowed to treat anyone there in exchange for turning a blind eye to the situation.

(She’d have to get Alivia down there sometime, the AgriCorps member would have a field day to see what they could do with composting.)

Almost no one referred to her as 'Jedi' these days.

Galahad wasn’t a particularly good Jedi, but she liked to think she was living her life in a way Master Sinube would have been proud of. While not sticking to the letter of the law or the code, she upheld its spirit, helping those in need and healing hurts where she could.

Besides, it’s not like she missed out on all of the fun.

* * *

“Well, it seems you’ve gotten up to your fair share of fun,” Sinube smiled into his cup of tea.

His little Hawkbat had been the cause of quite a lot of buzz around the Temple. She had been paired up with Master Quinlan Vos and his padawan learner, Aayla Secura, for what seemed like a simple relief mission. The ‘quick mission’ ended up lasting two weeks longer than planned, involved at least one shoot out with slavers, a busted hyperdrive, and hitching a ride on a pleasure barge that doubled as a flying nightclub.

Master Vos came back to the Coruscant Temple covered in body glitter and dressed like a pole dancer. Galahad was sporting a fair number of hickies and a new half-sleeve tattoo on her right forearm. Padawan Secura was fine, but couldn’t look either of them in the eye for a solid week.

Sinube found himself oddly proud. As they drank tea and chatted, he found that Galahad was smiling more, the Force was lighting up around her with contented happiness. The proper Jedi thing to do would remind her not to project so much, and that as Jedi they had to set a certain standard of behavior. Instead, he poured her another cup and complimented the linework on her tattoo.

“Oh, thank you! We met this really nice artist on the ship, and when I saw some of his work…”

Sinube smiled to himself. Oh yes, his little Hawkbat was doing just fine.

  
  


Art by suja-janee on tumblr. Check them out they have great Star Wars stuff!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> The ideas of bacta stills and Corscant autonomous communes are ideas I got from text posts from the lovely gallusrostromegalus on tumblr. Check them out they have funny stuff
> 
> As always if you have any thoughts/ideas/questions or just want to say hello, comment below and let me know!


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